


Naivety

by yanlovex3



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bone Breaking, F/M, Guided blowjob, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, Mating Press, Period Typical Misogyny, Wild West AU, Yandere, my christian sexual guilt, sheltered reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:13:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanlovex3/pseuds/yanlovex3
Summary: Your life has been spent being sheltered, careful- but one careless decision leads you into a bad situation… or is it good?
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 120





	Naivety

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively title “cowman so good at the secs that wtf kidnapping good????!!!!”

There are countless reasons you shouldn’t be out here- most notable of which is probably that it’s dark, the second most notable being that it’s incredibly dangerous for a woman to travel alone.

Today’s just been a string of bad fortune, though. You reassure yourself that you’re worked up over nothing- because you’ve already made it this far. Of course there’s outlaws in these parts, but they need to sleep too, right? And you haven’t even got anything to give them.

Worked up over _nothing._

You just follow the stars to guide you Eastward, back to your hometown. It only takes an hour and you must be at least halfway into it. If you squint at the horizon, you can the glowing lights. It’s fairly big so it should be easy to get into the town without any hassle.

A noise.

Your hand hovers over your gun as instant regret floods your nerves. If only you’d scrapped together the cash to stay the night- if only you’d looked longer and harder for a ride home-

Horse hooves against the ground. You freeze and silently pray it’s not an outlaw or a bandit or a criminal. Hopefully they ignore you. Although, the moon is bright and it wouldn’t take much squinting to identify your unmoving figure.

As they get closer, you bring up your gun and aim it in front of you. Not taking any chances.

And a man with a hat sits atop the horse, lit cigar slightly illuminating his face. You watch as the embers float around him as he draws his breath in.

He makes direct eye contact with you.

“Y’know, it’s not safe to be travellin’ this late. Especially if you’re a lady.”

His deep voice is hushed. There’s the slight implication that he considers you to be an idiot. But that’s incorrect. You’re not stupid, you’re desperate.

“I don’t have any other option.”

“Now, missy, you’re telling me that you couldn’t trick some old fool into giving you a ride with that face of yours?”

You aim your gun a little higher. You- you don’t want to _kill_ someone, but perhaps you’ll get away with shooting him in the leg. This man oozes trouble from every pore, makes you uneasy.

“Couldn’t find any. Now, I’m sorry, but I need to get home.”

“I’d happily escort you for a price.”

“I don’t know you.”

“McCree.”

The name registers in your head immediately.

“J-Jesse McCree?” You sputter out, mind flashing to the wanted posters nailed to the wall on every saloon. He had a bounty that got higher every time you saw one. And, looking more closely into it, his face very much resembled the one you’d found yourself staring at countless times before.

“Ain’t you clever?” He says, sarcasm lacing his tone. “Now quit pointin’ that gun around. You know it won’t help, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that…” You tell him, still compliantly lowering your aim to the ground.

“Are you really in a position to be making demands?”

You hang your head in shame, hoping that if you look pitiful enough he’ll let you go. Surely, such a famed outlaw such as Jesse McCree must be smart enough to piece together that you don’t have much money on you.

“I suppose not. I’m sorry. I’d just like to get home, and I don’t have anything valuable that I can pay you with.”

“I’ll get you to safety for free, then. Won’t get you all the way home, though, if you ain’t payin’. I’d really just hate to see you still here in the morning,”

You’re about to correct him that you _do_ have some navigational skills, but you quickly latch on to the true meaning of his statement. A vision flashes before your eyes, one where you’re nothing more than a rotting corpse, shot by a bandit for money that you don’t even have.

“I may be an outlaw, but I’m not a monster.” McCree adds, as if to persuade you to take him up on the offer. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was true, criminals could have strange codes to follow.

“Okay,” You sigh, slinging the gun back over your shoulder. “Thank you.”

He helps you mount the horse, offering his hand whilst you climb on at the back.

You tell him the name of your town and he gives an affirmative hum, telling you that’s what he suspected.

The horse is still for a moment before its reigns are tugged.

McCree mumbles something about trying to rest on the way there, that he doesn’t mind if you use him as something to lean against. It seems like a bad idea, however, your muscles are fatigued and screaming for mercy. There isn’t much to do except enjoy the break from walking and let him escort you home.

———

You’ve been staring at his back for a while. A little too long, in your eyes. Then again, time’s always blurred when you’re tired.

You understand that he’s not going too fast- not wanting to risk you falling off- but shouldn’t you be home by now?

Looking skyward, you try to identify the constellations to get a rough grasp on where you are and what direction you’re going in.

It is not East.

“McCree, sir, we’re still heading to-?”

“Hush. We’re headin’ home.”

“My home?” You ask, panic rising in your body. Now fully alert, you detach yourself from his back and sit up straight. The horse is still moving.

“Home.”

“I’d like to get off, now.”

He lets out a low laugh. “I don’t think you’d have much luck making it back from here. Let’s just say your survival’s lookin’ a lot more optimistic if y’just shut up and behave yourself.”

You start to slide back from him, preparing yourself to fall off the horse. If you draw your gun as soon as you land, you might be able to make it out of this alive.

“I can feel you moving back there, pumpkin. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. I’ve got my gun _right_ here.”

Looking down, you see his hand poised over it. New plan. You’re close. It shouldn’t be too hard to grab the pistol out of the holster, disarming him.

But when you make an attempt, he both bats your hand away and provokes the horse to rear, causing you to fall backwards and off it. Your head thuds against the ground, sending a dull echo of pain rocketing through your body. Your gun digs into your back mercilessly. That’s bound to bruise.

And McCree gets off the horse.

“What did I tell you about not doing things you’ll regret?”

Black splotches invade the edges of your vision. It’s hard to make him out.

But you think that he crouches down next to you, because you can feel your gun being pulled out from underneath your body. It gets thrown far, landing in the distance with the soft thump.

The next thing you feel is the back of his hand making swift contact with your face. More tears spring to your eyes as your cheek throbs.

“Y’gonna be good?” He asks. Your heart pounds in your chest as you give a weak, “Mm-hm.”

McCree picks you up at the waist, bringing you to your feet once more as you’re given no other choice but to hobble up to the horse again. He mounts first and helps you up again, and this time you stay relatively quiet on the ride to avoid angering him further. The sound of blood rushing in your ears is too loud to speak over, anyway.

———

Completely disoriented, you arrive at his home in the wee hours of the morning. It’s in the middle of nowhere- well, a town you a passed by is relatively close, but his house isn’t within the town at all. When you passed those buildings you swore you heard gunshots. It can’t be a particularly nice place if McCree’s decided to live near it.

McCree appears to have done well for himself. He has a shelter for his horse and his own residency. Although not particularly big, it looks more expensive on the inside. Not well kept or architecturally stunning, but possessing a good amount of new inventions. The more you look… perhaps even real plumbing?

You don’t have time to ponder this, with his hand on your back, forcefully leading you to what you could only guess was the bedroom.

He turns around and starts undressing. Feeling your eyes on him, he says, “Ain’t you gonna get ready for bed? Or do you sleep fully dressed?”

You’re not sure what to take off. Whilst McCree has a pair of pants that he changes into, you have nothing.

“Just sleep naked,” He sighs. “You’ll have to get used to it anyway.”

Even when tired, his voice carries a tone of gentle authority. You find yourself stripped bare, covering yourself up awkwardly with your hands before climbing under the sheets. It doesn’t matter to him, though, as he takes you under one of his strong arms and wishes you goodnight. You barely say it back.

———

In the late morning, it’s McCree that wakes up first. Clearly, because you wake up to his hands roaming freely on your skin. You go rigid but he doesn’t stop. Eventually, you squeak out a, “Mister-!”

Which only results in one of his hands viciously groping your breast without mercy.

“Now, (Y/N)…”

“I never told you my name.” You whimper. That was deliberate. You were planning on giving him a fake one later on so it’d be easier to survive upon escaping.

“I was watching go you go about your business in town. If you’d looked hard, you mighta seen me,”

Your hand hovers over his, silently willing him to remove it. He doesn’t.

“And it ain’t “mister” anything. It’s _Jesse.”_

You feel his breath on the back of your neck as you stare off into space, taking in the vague details that you’d missed the night before. As much as you hated to admit it, Jesse’s bed was comfortable. Maybe you’d be tempted to fall asleep again if he wasn’t in it.

But he is. And it’s difficult to distract yourself from that when his hand goes further South.

“Please stop touching me.” You say as firmly as possible- which isn’t very firm at all.

“Ah, savin’ your first time for marriage? ‘Fraid to say there’s not many churches round here that’d let me in them.”

You struggle away from him more violently and to your surprise, he lets go. “Saving it for another man completely.”

“Mm, sure. I won’t ever let you see one of those again, sugar, you’re all mine. Unless we have a son.”

“You’re _vile.”_ You whimper, voice cracking.

But just when you’re trying to get out of bed, you’re yanked backwards by the wrist.

This time you’re tugged so close that you can feel his bulge pressing against you. As much as you try to squirm away, his arm remains clamped at your waist. The other comes around, two fingers pressing between your closed legs. You’re confused when he starts to circle in that particular area- but there must still be some sensitive part of you that he’s able to reach because you’re already mewling, feeling an entirely new sensation that makes you feel hot all over.

Sex, as you remember hearing, isn’t a pleasant experience. You’d had it talked about you in hushed tones with an older friend who told you she couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. You’d pitied the women in brothels, knowing that their daily tasks were terrible ones. You’d overheard men talk about sex- forcing, pushing, thrusting- which made it all sound more painful than giving birth to the potential child that resulted.

And yet, Jesse, the outlaw your hometown despised, was forcing you to give into a feeling that made you want to be _greedy._ It’s not sex, you reason with yourself, but his hand is so close to where sex would take place.

Somehow, you also want him to stop. This is far too intimate for strangers, surely, but when you try to remove his hand with your own he only applies more pressure. Your body convulses with a breathy moan which you quickly try to conceal with that same hand. Jesse laughs behind you and you hear the smirk in his voice.

“Anyone ever done this for you before, sweetheart? Nobody touched your clit? Not even yourself?”

You shake your head but he doesn’t sympathise like you expected him to. He only keeps going.

When his hand gropes your breast again, you feel something different and it’s somehow increasing the pressure you feel at your pussy. Not from the way he’s touching you, but the way you feel inside.

“Lie on your back and spread your legs for me.” He commands.

Fearful tears glaze over your eyes. You don’t want to succumb so easily, knowing what comes next. “I’m not having you putting anything inside of me!”

Because to you, that’s all sex is. And for the fairer sex, it is an awful experience- mediocre at best. You could at least be with a man that you love whilst doing the necessary.

His hand has stopped now, and you’re expecting him to force apart your legs by himself. This- this isn’t even real intercourse, this is what happens to unfortunate women in dirty alleyways, what slowly kills them from the inside, what rots them away as humans-

He doesn’t use force. He speaks again, taking advantage of your lack of sexual knowledge.

“Suppose I could just put my cock in you. But I’m not that cruel. It’ll be easier if you let me work you open, first.”

You pause. Is there something between your legs, something wet, already? So you _kind of_ knew that this happened, it’s happened before when you’d lie awake, thinking about the face on the posters with murky, sinful feelings that you couldn’t erase from your brain fast enough…

The same face is behind you now, coaxing you into something that he could easily not bother coaxing you for at all. With his strength, he could easily force you into anything he desired. Maybe you should let him do his thing.

“C’mon, sweetie. Make a decision before I make one for you.”

And you can’t help rolling over, shifting until there’s a good gap between your legs.

He climbs on top of you but shuffles backwards, leaving you confused. You’re so afraid but so strangely aroused. Jesse will know more about this than you do. Just trust him, you think, it’s useless to struggle. Even as he positions his head between your legs, causing your eyes to shut and leak tears out to the sides of your face.

But that’s when his tongue takes a long swipe up, rendering your body useless with a single motion. You move to curl your thighs around his head but resist doing so, afraid to disobey his command. You feel his wet appendage making strokes over your pussy, humid breath fanning against it as his beard scratches your skin. Jesse angles himself upwards and begins to suckle on your clit, starting off gently at first but slowly progressing into something thirsty and desperate. The feeling is back, the jolts of pure ecstasy racing through your muscles, the knots tying themselves in your core. He only keeps going for so long, and you let out a shameful whine when he actually detaches his mouth. Why are you missing that feeling? Why is he capable of doing that? How? Your eyes open in shock upon feeling his presence shift.

Jesse crawls over your body, pressing his lips against yours. Confusion immediately takes over your body because of where his mouth’s just been, but he doesn’t stop until you kiss back, giving you a muffled. “That’s right, sugar”. You can taste yourself on him and he makes sure that you become familiar with it before pulling away completely.

You’re expecting him to take off his pants, now. Embarrassingly enough, you’re even starting to get curious about what he looks like down there. But you still have a little while to go until then, because he’s shuffling back again, this time rubbing his fingers up and down your slit. You’re lubricated, slick, and one of his fingers easily enters. It’s something you can hardly feel at first (better than you thought) but you start to feel _something_ when he moves it. A second finger follows and the feeling clarifies. They curl, causing you to writhe. The feeling is only amplified by the pad of his thumb rolling over your clit. Your nails are digging into the bedsheets and you know that you no longer need to be restrained- because all you want is for him to keep going.

And yet, he stops. You don’t dare move as he quickly takes his pants off, discarding them on the ground. In fact, you watch in anticipation, curious eyes following his every movement.

Jesse’s cock is… a lot bigger than his fingers. Of course it is, you just weren’t expecting it to be true by so _much_. The urge to clamp your legs shut comes back. It’s long with a good amount of girth. How on Earth is it supposed to fit inside you?

He wants you in a new position when he crawls between your legs again. It’s strange, you’d always imagined this sort of thing taking place with the partners not facing each other. But Jesse has different intentions, because he’s asking you to put one leg over here, bringing it closer to your chest and letting it hang loosely in the air, then the other on the opposite side, until you’re left in a position that feels far more exposed. You’re presenting your body to him, a meal waiting to be devoured.

You take a deep breath as Jesse repositions himself. His eyes are boring into yours as he aligns his shaft with your entrance, rubbing the blunt head up and down to gather your juices. He puts the tip in first and to be honest, you can’t really feel anything, but then he decides to stop going slow. In one movement he sinks fully into you, leaving you whining at the sensation of his blunt head butting into your cervix- going impossibly deep, stretched impossibly wide. You’re full to the brim, panting out for mercy in all your breaths because you’re not sure if you can handle him. Isn’t he supposed to move? Is that when it starts hurting? Because of course, you were tense and uncomfortable when he had first entered, however, it wasn’t exactly painful.

You almost feel let down.

And at the same time, so, so relieved.

McCree’s eyes bore into yours as he gives an experimental roll of his hips. He’s so close, you can make out beads of sweat on his forehead, admire the way his hair hangs from his face. Your legs lightly wrap around him.

“It doesn’t hurt…” You whisper in disbelief. Red-hot shame rises to your cheeks as you realise that it’s actually enjoyable. This is nothing like what you’ve heard of. This is heaven, or at least something good enough to make you believe in it.

“‘Course it doesn’t, darlin’. We’re meant for each other.”

Is that really love?

“I don’t know how you can say that,” You tell him. It’s difficult to speak and your voice is barely audible. The situation gets worse when Jesse begins to move again, rocking into you at a steady pace. “We’ve never met b-before now.”

“Sometimes, y’just know.” Is all he replies with, bringing a hand around to toy with one of your nipples. You can’t resist a few, weak moans at the way his precise touch plays with your buds, all with that easy smile on his face that depicts quiet content. You let your head rest back on the pillow as you feel your walls squeeze around him, clearly wanting to drain his balls that you so frequently feel slapping against you. Heavy, waiting to fill you up.

Jesse keeps going, coming in closer to you with every thrust. Eventually his lips meet yours once again, and you eagerly kiss back. It’s comforting how you can really taste him now, not just yourself but a hint of whiskey coupled with the scent of his sweat and dry, earthy smells radiating from his body. A working man, clearly, even if the job he does isn’t legal. It’s a smell you can’t get enough of. The whine you make when he pulls away has him immediately coming back in, letting yourself revel further in the safety of his embrace. His cock is already pounding in and out of you- it’s looking like you’ll have to spend the rest of your days with this outlaw, anyway, because it’s unlikely that you’ll find any other man (or even get far enough out the door to look at one).

Jesse draws backwards, switching to more shallow and fast thrusts as your legs close in on him, begging him not to part too much from you. He isn’t going anywhere, though, because he’s diving down to your neck, sucking hard at your skin with bruising force. You’re unable to resist the marking of your body as Jesse makes it crystal-clear that you’re his. Soon enough, there’s a couple, and a couple turns into a few, and a few turns into a scattering of hickeys across your neck and chest. All the while his hips are pistoning into yours; you’ve began to clench around him roughly in time with his thrusts. Your own pace does leave something to be desired though, since your motions are completely reflexive, only tensing when he goes deep and hard enough for sparks to fly underneath your eyelids. Thankfully, this is most of the strokes he makes. Your cunt is making the most obscene noises, clearly accepting of his presence and submissive to his desires. You’re finding it undeniably and irrevocably blissful.

That very fact makes you sick, nausea brewing in your churning stomach. You squeeze your eyes shut and press your lips into a firm line, teeth gritted together to stop the sounds from slipping out. Maybe there’s still a chance that you’ll make it out alive and find another man to marry. Maybe there’s a chance that your body is able to forget all this and still find a man willing to marry you, even if that means willingly erasing this from your life like it never happened. Truth be told, you’d never wholly understood the purity that was supposedly ruined from having sex with other people, maybe the right person would be willing to make an exception…

 _If_ you manage to leave Jesse. Which isn’t looking likely.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He taunts. “I know you’re enjoying this.”

You feel him pinch your cheek teasingly and swipe a lock of hair back from your face. Shyly, you crack open an eye so you can see what’s going on. When his hand dives back down to your clit, you feel so close- so tight in your core, tense and ready to burst.

Jesse stops, member twitching inside you as your insides flood with warmth that you quickly figure out is his seed. He keeps rubbing at your clit, applying more pressure with every passing moment until it’s like a flip is switched in your body and you finally reach your climax. You clutch viciously and rhythmically around his still-ejaculating cock and he gives you a few more thrusts in response, heightening the unfamiliar sensation. You’re moaning louder than before ( _‘Jesse!’_ ) with a hand covering your mouth, though it’s futile, acknowledged by Jesse’s critical eyes and wry smile. Once you remove your hand, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling out. Shakily, you stretch your legs out on the mattress, an ache making itself known to you.

He slides off the bed and tells you not to move a muscle. Of course, you follow his orders. You don’t mind. Even if he was allowing you to get up and move around, you’d probably stay still.

You can feel his seed leaking out of your pussy. It comes slowly, still hot, dripping down your legs.

———

“Believe it or not, yesterday wasn’t the first time I’ve seen you.”

You’re cleaned up, sitting on his lap in the living room. You’ve been leaning your head against his chest for the past hour, too weak to do anything else.

With no reply, Jesse continues speaking.

“Y’know, I don’t think anyone recognises me when I ain’t got my hat on. I put a pair of spectacles on and I’m pretty much disguised,”

You’re not fond of those implications.

“Hell, I’m even surprised you never caught on. You were staring at my poster, right at the back of the bar. Almost considered striking up a conversation, but I didn’t want to risk it.”

Shuffling awkwardly on his lap, your stomach sinks. How long has he been watching you? Was being in the same town as you deliberate?

So you give him a hum that conveys no particular emotion.

“Always wondered if you _liked_ seeing my poster… after all, y’spent an awful long time gazing into my eyes, n’ not exactly with hatred.”

You’re still motionless, wanting to get back to sleep. Jesse had even promised that you’d be able to rest on his lap, not trusting you to stay in bed alone. As if to remind him of this, you push your head against his chest harder.

“Oh, alright. Sleep. We’ll talk about getting you settled in when you wake up.”

———

Jesse does indeed discuss it with you later. Mostly, he rambles on about his excitement to see you as a mother and makes subtle threats. However, noticing how withdrawn you are instead of being afraid or equally excited makes him pause.

You’re handling a lot of things. The fact that you’d almost fantasied about Jesse before meeting him. The realisation that he’s made you experience a side of yourself that you didn’t even know you had- and it didn’t even feel dirty, or cruelly necessary, or dreadful.

The thought that you might actually be okay with spending more time with him. Who are you to argue? You’d never been open with having a “type” before, never discussed it with your friends, but now, meeting someone who appears to fit it perfectly, and against your will… is almost nice- no, disturbing.

You tell him you’ll have to see how it goes when it comes to accepting your situation. He quirks an eyebrow but otherwise accepts your answer.

Another thing you’d heard of, tales of girls being stolen and pushed into marriages. You’d just never imagined that you’d be one of them and that now, as a woman in this area, you don’t have much of a choice. Sticking with Jesse instead of running away- like he’d told you prior- gives you the best chance of your survival. You could even consider yourself fortunate for encountering him and not a bandit that’d shoot you on sight.

You wipe those thoughts from your head. A man who’d kidnapped you as a way of entering a relationship _can’t_ be a good candidate for a husband.

For now, you need to present yourself as a fellow human to him. Maybe you’ll find a way out later, when he trusts you more. Hopefully.

———

You end up performing your wifely duties without question. Jesse’s always in the background, watching how you anxiously dart around the house. So far, no signs of pregnancy.

Jesse’s more than pleased to have someone willingly clean up for him. He tries his best but it gets messy when he has to leave suddenly, dragging you down to the cellar where he ties you up. Those are the moments where you have to remind yourself of Jesse’s true nature, a man who’s forced you into the role of a housewife without even taking you out to dinner first.

You _have_ to take the time to think about that side of him, because otherwise (when he’s home), life is actually better than expected, at the very least.

It’s all too easy to get caught in his honeyed web of affection.

More sex that causes you to question all the ways you thought of it before. Being provided for, not having to walk to strange towns to organise trade deals. Fond kisses in the morning, in the afternoon, in his embrace at night. A rich voice that tenderly soothes your worries. Firm arms that wrap around your waist and a body that curls around yours perfectly.

It makes you fuzzy on the inside, malleable to his words. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re scared to find out what would happen if you made him angry.

So, naturally, you’re compliant when he asks for you to suck him off.

It’s early in the morning of a new day, sunlight streaming through the windows. Jesse’s been going out for the past few days and you hope this time he’ll stay home. He’d even hinted at it, saying that it’d be unfortunate if he was to leave again.

You do miss him. Or perhaps you miss the freedom of being able to roam the house. Or perhaps you merely enjoy not getting rope-burn from the restraints. Whichever it is, you’re glad that he’s able to spend uninterrupted time with you.

Jesse spreads his legs slightly, knocking into yours which wakes you up. You see the motion of his hand pumping his cock underneath the covers, not stopping, especially not when he makes eye contact with you. In fact, he shuffles the sheet off his body and yours, revealing his hard length to you completely.

“Go n’ do us a favour, darlin’,” He groans, hand halting. “Use your pretty lil’ mouth on me. It’d make a me very happy man.”

There’s a smirk on his face as his warm eyes gaze into yours, slowly convincing you to down the glass of water on your bedside table and start positioning yourself between his legs. He removes his hand, tucking one of them behind his head, waiting for you to get to work.

You’re unsure, of course. This is the one sexual act that’s going to require a lot more effort and you have no idea where to begin. Experimentally, you run a semi-tight hand up and down his shaft, placing your mouth over the tip whilst swirling your tongue.

“That’s good, baby. Ah, let me talk you through it. Won’t leave you strugglin,”

Yes- greatly appreciated, you think. You wait for him to speak again.

“Right, so you’re gonna have t’start off with a few hard pumps, ‘kay?”

That’s what you do, taking your mouth off him to fulfil his wishes. One, two, three, all with a firm grip. You look up for his approval and he nods at you to keep going.

A couple of seconds into only using your hand, he tells you to kiss his cock.

“-don’t be afraid to show it some love, (Y/N). Give a little appreciation to the man that got you home safe.”

A knot twists itself in your stomach. You _wish_ he wouldn’t remind you of the reality of the situation so suddenly like that. It always throws you off.

Nevertheless, you comply, pressing soft kisses to the very tip, then around the head, then slowly trailing them all the way down his member until you’re at the hilt. Then he asks for you to start massaging his balls, and only whilst you begin doing that is when your mouth makes contact with his tip again.

“Roll yer tongue around, like last time.” He groans, stretching his legs out in delight.

From there, it’s only a progression of him challenging you to go to deeper, stroking his member in all the places you can’t reach. The experience being a first, there’s only so much you can take of him at one time but Jesse is determined that you fulfil his wishes. His hand presses into the back of your head to hold you in position, releasing when he believes you’ve spent long enough there. Tears are welling up in your eyes the more he forces himself down your throat but you furiously blink them away.

“You’re such a pretty sight, honey.” He breathes, twisting a lock of your hair around his finger. You’re well aware that a few loose tears have managed to escape your eyes, spilling down your cheeks.

And all it seems to do is make Jesse happier.

You almost consider getting up and escaping him in those moments when he’s holding you in place. You feel like you’re reaching your limit over and over again, helpless to do anything but continue drooling and crying all over his dick, beating lightly at his thigh with your fist when you’re desperate for air. However, he never gives into your demands. Only Jesse is able to control the pace. It brings you close to biting down when he’s holding you halfway down his cock, forcing you to stay still while he releases into your throat. When you draw back you’re sputtering for air, holding one hand over your mouth so not to spill his cum on the bedsheets.

Jesse leans forwards, giving you a rub on the pack, praising you sweetly for being good throughout the ordeal.

At least being good tends to get rewarded. Jesse makes you breakfast that morning, preceded by a fresh glass of water.

———

When you show signs of being pregnant, that’s when Jesse gets worse. On some days he takes you out to see his horse, or even lets you sit on the porch alone for half an hour. That stops. He switches into an overprotective caricature of himself, one that monitors your every move. Your baby bump hasn’t shown up yet, however, that doesn’t stop Jesse from constantly running a broad hand over your stomach and breasts, whispering fantasies of how you’ll look when you’re heavily pregnant. The language he uses scares you as well, reducing you to a defenceless animal when he talks about “breeding you over n’ over”, suggesting that after this one child there’s more to come. There’s only three bedrooms in his house, though, so you wonder how he’s going to space them out.

It gets to a point where you’re pleading with him for some time outside, anything, even just fifteen minutes on the porch /with/ him. The most he lets you have is ten.

Perhaps you’ve been fooling yourself too much. This is no way to live your life.

———

Whilst McCree may have initially known more about your sexual needs than you, he’s easier to convince about things surrounding your pregnancy. That’s something he doesn’t know as much on, to your immense joy.

You learn that you get more out of him by saying whatever you need is good for the baby.

Going outside, sexual acts (but just a couple, you’re not keen on him catching on), not being tied up when he leaves the home. You can sometimes bring yourself out of situations where he’s smothering you with his presence by simply provoking his worry for your unborn child.

You realise that you need an escape plan.

———

It begins with stashing a few things. Plucking a coin or two from Jesse’s wallet, actively looking for them underneath the couch.

You know where he keeps his guns, you’ve seen them all. There’s one at the very back that you’re sure he won’t miss.

Food would be whatever leftovers you can obtain on the day. All of your old possessions get stashed, anything you had on you. Part of you considers stealing his horse, but that feels far too obvious for what you’re doing. You hope to escape under the cover of night, journeying through the desert with enough money to pay someone in the nearby town to get you home in the morning. Then, you’d finally see your friends and family again.

(You’d pleaded countless times with Jesse for just a visit. Of course, he never gave in, claiming it was far too risky to let anyone in your hometown see you when you’d apparently been presumed dead.)

And all inconspicuously contained within a box of bed linens, sandwiched between the two bottom sheets in a knapsack. You’d carefully add a little something to your collection every day, being painstakingly cautious lest Jesse know what you were up to.

You’d now say that you’re a week away from leaving. A few more pinches of petty cash should leave you with a confident amount of money that’ll get you home.

Things are not so simple.

It starts when you’re sick. Jesse’s worry is immediate and severe, sending you to bed as soon as you show signs of being unwell.

The fear doesn’t quite sink in until Jesse concludes that you need another blanket. You sit, horrified and shivering, waiting for him to inevitably discover your stash.

“Honey?” He asks, walking into a room with the knapsack in one hand and a blanket in the other. “What’s this?”

You only look at him with big, scared eyes, trembling from both the sickness and the terror freezing in your veins.

The blanket in his hand drops to the floor.

“I knew I’d been missing change. This where it’s been goin’?”

You say nothing, only pushing yourself further back on the bed in a feeble attempt to create distance.

He’s scowling at you now, face bearing an angry expression. It doesn’t look good on him- not to you at least, who’s mind flashes with terrifying possibilities.

The knapsack drops to the floor as well, revealing that he’s holding something behind it. A hammer.

“I _was_ gonna break your legs, sugar…”

Instinctively, your legs hunch up to your chest. Oh no. This isn’t good. Waves of nausea wash over your cold body and you’re certain that they aren’t from the sickness. He’s rolling the hammer in his hand now, playing with it idly.

“…but I suppose I can let you off with a few fingers. Don’t wanna risk anything happenin’ to the baby.”

You’ve given up staring at him. Instead, you look down at your fingers clutching the cover. With a sob, you realise that soon they’ll be non-functional.

“Put your hands out flat on the bed, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” You whimper. “I didn’t mean to-“

“Now.” He seethes, not having any time for your begging.

Cautiously, you put both your hands at each side of you. He walks closer. Your entire body tenses as his footsteps come near, eyes closing as you sniffle. So of course, you don’t hear the hammer coming.

But you hear it crack down on two of your fingers, you hear the shriek that exists your mouth, you open your eyes only to see that your world’s turned a shade of white agony, pain coursing through your body from the fractured hand.

“‘N now you won’t be able to find coins with that hand, let alone shoot with it.” Jesse says, although it sounds like he’s underwater. You’re sobbing, cradling your broken hand with the other weakly.

Horrified and on the verge of throwing up, you listen to him walk around to the other side of the bed, making out his figure from your blurred vision. Your fingers throb relentlessly, refusing to let you forget about the pain.

“Other hand, honey. We ain’t done yet.”

And today is truly the day that you learn a valuable lesson: Jesse may be capable of providing you with a good living situation and immense pleasure, but he is also capable of providing you with immense pain. At least you wouldn’t be trying to escape anytime soon to provoke more of it, though.

Not with those mangled fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> [💖Tumblr💖](https://www.tumblr.yanlovex3.com)


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